Personal assistance
by cein
Summary: If somebody gets hurt while saving you, then you owe them, right? No matter who they or you are.


Title: Personal assistance

Character(s): Jimmy, Gibbs, Ducky, Tony

Genre(s): humor, hurt/comfort

Episode(s): Jetlag, Jackknife

Challenge: Pick a main character and "whump" the hell out of them, 2,000 word limit.

Jimmy fumbled with the keys as he tried to unlock his front door.

"I've got it, Palmer," said Gibbs, taking them from Jimmy's good hand.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," said Jimmy, tiredly as he made his way into the apartment, flicking on the lights as he did so. He cradled his broken arm as he sat down heavily on the one comfortable armchair, wincing as his aching body protested.

"Want me to fix you something to eat?" asked Gibbs. "Ducky said those meds you're on shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach."

Jimmy's stomach lurched at the prospect of eating anything...or maybe it was the way that Agent Gibbs was acting so, so solicitous of him. It wasn't normal having him hovering around like this. But then, nothing about this situation could be considered 'normal'.

"Mr. Palmer, I need you to stay still!" The voice seemed to becoming from far away. It was funny, thought Jimmy as he lay on his back with his eyes closed. While he had been perfectly content to stay still moments ago, now that he had been instructed to do so, he couldn't help but try to move. The pain that lanced through his body, proved without a doubt that the instruction had not been without merit. A small groan escaped his lips.

"See Palmer, now that's why Ducky told you not to move." Tony's voice sounded closer to Jimmy, or maybe he was just feeling slightly more awake now. But one thing both voices had in common was the underlying note of concern.

"You wanna try opening your eyes now?" That was Tony again. "Ducky might cut your wages if you keep sleeping on the job."

"Really Tony." That was Doctor Mallard's voice again, slightly admonishing this time. Jimmy couldn't help but feel a little bit smug as he imagined the reproachful look that would be on his face, together with the abashed look that Tony was likely to be sporting. "However you are right to be encouraging him to open his eyes." In a slightly louder tone he addressed himself to Jimmy, "Mr. Palmer, if you could just open your eyes for me."

The tone of voice was one that brooked no argument, and Jimmy would have pulled his eyes open with a crane if necessary. Fortunately all that was needed was a strong effort on his part and he managed to force his eyes open, blinking furiously as a penlight was shone in them.

"Ah, that's a good sign," he heard Doctor Mallard say. Jimmy blinked and tried to focus on what was happening. "Dear boy, how many fingers am I holding up."

"Ducky, you think he can even *see* your fingers without his glasses?"

"My...glasses?" Jimmy instinctively tried to reach for them, or rather where they should have been on his face. But the second he moved his arm, pain stabbed through it and he cried out involuntarily.

"Easy there kid," he heard Tony say, "Ducky thinks you could be packing a few broken bones."

"Probably a concussion as well, I shouldn't wonder," Jimmy heard Doctor Mallard say. He forced his eyes open again and managed to focus on the two concerned faces looking down at him. "Don't worry, Mr. Palmer, there's an ambulance on the way. You'll be back on your feet in no time. Tony, if you'd be so good as to stay here, I'll just check on the other patient." He stood, and Jimmy barely heard him say in a low voice to Tony, "Keep him talking, and call me if there's any change."

Tony nodded and then turned his attention back to Jimmy. Before he could say anything, Jimmy spoke up, "Other...other patient? Is som...somebody else hurt?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Jimmy," said Tony, "You know Ducky, he's just being careful. Probably comes from not being used to practicing medicine on live people. You know, I've often wondered why they call it 'practicing'. You'd think after what, forty odd years he could say he was pretty good at it."

"Who...who is it?" But even as Jimmy spoke, he could hear raised voices.

"Dammit Ducky, I do not *need* to lie still and wait for an ambulance, I'm fine!"

Jimmy guessed that there probably wasn't much color in his face, but he could feel what there was draining away. "Gibbs is hurt?" Images flashed across his mind, memories of a van coming towards him, somebody yelling to get out of the way. "Oh God, what did I do?"

A wide grin split Tony's face, "Do? Why you only went and saved Gibbs's life by pushing him out of the way of a runaway van, that's all. Course then you didn't get yourself out of the way fast enough, and boy, Gibbs is gonna yell at you for *that* when you're feeling better." He glanced in the direction Gibbs's voice was coming from. "But he'll have to get past Ducky first and right now I'm not taking any bets as to who'll come out on top in that little argument. Cause you know, Gibbs is Gibbs, but Ducky doesn't take any prisoners when it comes to medical matters. Hey, you okay there? You're looking a little pale."

His voice sounded as if it was coming down a long tunnel. Jimmy tried to keep his eyes open but it was just too much effort. He could hear Tony calling for Ducky, and then it all went black.

Jimmy shifted restlessly in the hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. As Doctor Mallard had diagnosed at the accident scene, his right arm was broken in two places, and that combined with the bruised ribs and concussion, made it difficult to find a position in which he could sleep. At least though, his Doctor had promised him he could go home the next day, barring any complications arising. Jimmy was hoping that he'd be let home sooner rather than later. He had a paper due to be presented by the end of the week and was already behind on the necessary research. Although getting it all drafted and typed up with only one good hand was going to be a problem. Maybe he could dig out his old tape recorder and then pay somebody to transcribe it for him, but that was going to cost money and would disrupt his carefully balanced budget for the month. Maybe he could pay in kind, "One free autopsy for every 10,000 words typed," he mumbled to himself as he finally found the least uncomfortable position in the bed and fell asleep.

"And I'm telling you, Jethro, it's the least you can do." Jimmy wasn't sure whether he was still dreaming or not. He remembered performing an autopsy and determining that the cause of death had been a pair of Gucci shoes that had beaten their owner to death and escaped to the Bahamas...he was pretty sure that had been just a dream. But hearing Doctor Mallard and Agent Gibbs having a heated discussion in his hospital room, that didn't sound like something that would really happen. So if he was still dreaming, Jimmy thought, then there wasn't any need for him to contribute to he conversation.

"Ducky! Okay, he pushed me out of the way of the van. Maybe even saved my life. Sure I appreciate it, and I'll tell him so when he wakes up. But that doesn't mean I'm going to wait on him hand and foot."

"Even though you had Agent McGee chauffeur you around for weeks while you were wearing a sling?"

"I never asked him to do it, he insisted."

"And *I* am insisting now. Mr. Palmer will of course be taking at least a week of sick leave. Director Vance has agreed that you are entitled to a few days as well."

"You went behind my back to Vance?"

"Well I certainly wasn't going to inform you before the fact. No Jethro, that young man put his life at risk to save you and was injured in the process. The least you can do is return the favor and assist him for the next few days until he's feeling better."

That was the last Jimmy had heard of that conversation. It wasn't until the next day when Agent Gibbs showed up pushing a wheelchair that he realized it hadn't been a dream after all.

"Do you want me to fix you something to eat?" asked Gibbs. "Ducky said those meds you're on shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach."

Jimmy's stomach lurched at the prospect of eating anything...or maybe it was the way that Agent Gibbs was acting so, so solicitous of him. "I'm fine, I...Agent Gibbs, you don't have to do this. I mean, thank you for driving me home but I...I can manage by myself."

He watched as Gibbs shrugged. "Gave Ducky my word that I'd see you right. Next few days I'm at your disposal. You need anything, just speak up. I'll cook and clean up afterwards, drive you around to your classes and hospital appointments. Even take you shopping if you need anything, but I draw the line at standing outside fitting rooms. So, where do you want me to start?"

"Could you type a report for me?" asked Jimmy. "I have a paper to present and I need to add some charts to my PowerPoint and include references to my research and..." His voice trailed off. "It's going to be a long couple of days, isn't it?"

"Ya think?"


End file.
